News of the outside world reaches us through the first shipment of “new fish” distributed on the auction block in years. Some are thieves and cutthroats. Most, however, are political dissidents, protesters against the Pantheon and College of Electors.
“Old Wusong has finally died,” they say, and my father has taken his throne. A man not of the line of the Great Song sits at the head of the great houses for the first time in over seven hundred years. House Wusong-Leontes is the newest bloodline among the Pantheon, though Miranda bears no son, and her “husband” is declared indisposed.
Edric’s position is precarious. The younger generation has also stepped into power. Hanschen of the Julii sits on the College of Electors. Perdiccus of Mughal has completed the rite of patricide, taken the title of Patriarch, and has been elected to his ancestral seat on the High Synod. Both oppose my father’s decisions at every turn. The wheels of government have halted. The friction is mere prelude to a coming conflagration; the common people are a powder keg sitting between the sparks.
And I’m trapped in here, I think, fuming.
Planetary weather patterns become more erratic. Crops and fish die. Shortage of work leaves the food lines interminable. Lowborns suffer and are restless and angry. The ranks of dissidents swell and so does the population of the Wendigo.
“Something must be done!” the people cry.
Some still look to the broken Pantheon for hope. Others put faith in a savior to lead them from the wasteland. My name’s still bandied about by some, but another bears the weight of undying adulation.
The cult of Phaestion says the heir of Julii is immortal. They say his mother is a sea goddess his father was awarded by the ancestors after his victory in the arena. (That no one has ever seen Phaestion’s mother only gives this tale credence.) They say he’s the greatest warrior of his generation. Others that he is the Great Song reincarnated. They say he will win the Combat and bring a new golden age to Tao. To me it seems the Julii propaganda office has done well at bolstering its heir’s inevitable grab for power. Religious fervor often brings out the violence in the human soul.
I can’t lose focus, I remind myself. Keep your mind on the task at hand.
I walk to the Ration Bar and take my seat amid the gangs. I’m alone even in a crowd. There’s a tension in the air; I feel the whispers and furtive gazes as I eat. It’s happening now, I realize.
I make my way past the Haulers’ table with purpose. I glance at the gang, including Bruul Vaarkson, with an unspoken challenge. Come and get me.
I pass the table of Pickers and Jinam Shank. He looks nervous, his eyes shifting back and forth. I tap the table with my knuckles, the signal that was agreed upon. I can tell his stomach is churning. Shank’s not the type to upset the balance of things, though he’ll gladly take any reward as long as someone else does the heavy lifting.
I move through the shantytown toward my hut and wait for the voice I know will come.
“Edmon?”
“What are you doing here, Toshi?”
It’s just like Vaarkson to be so stupid as to send this slithering toad eel to me. Frankly, I’m surprised the scrawny man’s still alive. His strategy to survive through duplicity must be more advantageous than I thought.
“Vaarkson is coming for you, tonight,” he murmurs. “Don’t go back to your hut.”
“Vaarkson wouldn’t challenge me against The Warden’s orders,” I reply, brushing him aside.
“He plans to take your life and ask questions later, Edmon. You’re still enough of a problem that any punishment The Warden gives won’t be so severe.”
Toshi might be right. My father may have told The Warden not to kill me, but it doesn’t seem that he mentioned not harming me. Any way to pass my death off as unavoidable or not of his doing might be politically expedient. I’ve been raped and tortured since my first days here. Edric doesn’t want me protected; he wants me in pain.
“The Haulers are too strong, and Vaarkson too entrenched as their leader. The Warden won’t remove them from power even if they disobey,” Toshi reasons.
“That’s a lot of faith in one gang,” I retort.
“Vaarkson has planned this for months. You won’t survive without my help.”
I laugh. “Why would I take your help?”
“I’ve betrayed you once,” he admits, “so trust my betrayal now. You wouldn’t have moved against Vaarkson unless you felt absolutely safe. You have something up your sleeve. I’m betting on you, but in return, I need assurance that when the storm settles—”
“You’ll still be standing.” I stare at him, giving nothing away—yet.
“We have a pact?” he asks.
Indeed, I trust Toshi’s traitorous nature to seek the winning side, whichever he thinks that is. Unfortunately for him, I know I’m going to win.
“Listen closely.” I put my arm over his shoulder. “Tonight, while the Haulers move against me, the Pickers will raid their camp, killing any left there. The Haulers will return to find corpses. The Pickers will then fall upon them unaware.”
“Are you insane?” Toshi asks. “If you wipe out the Haulers completely, how will the system work? How will The Warden not seek retribution?”
“He may select scapegoats, but there will be no evidence that the Pickers or I were behind it. He can’t afford to lose too many of us. The workforce will be partitioned to create a new Hauler Gang. A new foreman will be selected.”
“A new foreman?” he inquires.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Toshi,” I growl menacingly, and he shrinks. “Now be of service. We need a place to lay low while the attack happens.”
“I know the best hiding spots in the Wendigo.”
“I remember,” I agree.
“This way.” He gestures. I follow him through the shantytown. We move swiftly to avoid prying eyes.
“Where are we going?” I play dumb.
“Shelter once, you shelter always.” Toshi grins.
Vaarkson, you’re such a fool. “That place was no shelter for me.” I stop in my tracks. It isn’t a stretch to feign fear of returning to the scene.
“No one will be there now. Trust me. They’re preparing their attack at the healer’s hut.”
“No!” I walk away. I need to make it look good.
“Edmon, if you go anywhere else, they’ll find you, and I’ll be dead.”
He’s going to reveal he was trying to betray me again, in order to gain my trust.
“They knew that you’d refuse me. Please. I was supposed to make sure that you went to the Ration Bar, where they could beset you with their main force. They’re waiting at your hut if I couldn’t convince you. The cavern is the only safe place, I swear!”
I slam him to the ground. “I hear lies in your voice.” I smile menacingly, and he quivers underneath my grip. The power his fear gives me is intoxicating. “Speak another word and I’ll kill you.”
This is why Vaarkson does what he does. It’s why my father is who he is. The rush of domination. The violence within awakening. I’m self-horrified, but right now, I need to become a horror. I glare through the back of Toshi’s skull.
“Your plan will fail,” he says, sniveling. “There are no Haulers in camp tonight. The Pickers will find it deserted.”